


What Happens In the Dark Stays In the Dark

by Laura_Mayfair



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Banter, Community: bsg_kink, F/M, Flirting, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: Laura Roslin and Tom Zarek get a little closer when the lights go out, even if Laura's in denial and neither of them will stop talking.





	What Happens In the Dark Stays In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bsg-kink. Thanks to lanalucy for her prompt: Laura/Tom - cementing their new friendship post-NC

“We might be able to get Aquaria and Virgon on board but it’s still going to leave us one vote short and that’s poor odds when -- “

Tom was already shaking his head at her and the gesture made Laura want to jab a pencil right between his eyes. 

“You have to trust me on this, Laura. We’ll get enough.”

She lifted her chin and glared at him over her eyeglasses. Why had she ever decided that making him her VP was a good idea? “I am not risking a loss of the support we’ve already gained on the basis of a hunch -- “

They talked over one another -- again.

“ -- It’s not a hunch. I have good instincts about this sort of thing.”

Laura gave a derisive snort. “Oh, frak your good instincts, T--”

The room went dark, pitch dark, and all conversation suddenly ceased. Tom grabbed her arm and Laura felt her own rising panic mirrored in her Vice President’s tightening squeeze. The cylons were back, the ship breached, and they were being flung forward into another calamity. 

And then...

“Oh, for frak’s sake,” said Laura even as Tom’s grip slackened. 

“It’s gotta be past midnight,” said Tom, articulating the joint realization. “Power conservation. Gods.” He released his hold on her but couldn’t quite conceal the hitch in his voice. “Come on, Roslin. Let’s find that switch, shall we?”

Laura made her way toward the outermost wall, hands outstretched to navigate through the blackness. Could it really be so late? Had they been sitting there talking and arguing for hours? Impossible! She remembered the room emptying out after the afternoon meeting, one representative making some flimsy excuse followed by another. Actually, now that she thought about it, she recalled Tom’s quip about the two of them being the last ones standing, a rare moment of shared solidarity. It probably really had been hours ago, although it didn’t feel like it.

Laura felt along the wall. She was sure the switch was somewhere on the left. Tom must have thought so, too, because she could hear and feel his movements beside her. Her hip brushed against some unseeable part of him. Then there was a low thud followed by a slow inhalation through pressed lips.

“Ow. Please don’t step on me. I think I just tripped over that hideous bust of Baltar. Weren’t we supposed to have gotten rid of that damned thing?”

“Yes. They were supposed to -- are you on the floor, Tom?” Laura made sure that, even though the Vice President couldn’t see her eye roll, he could undoubtedly hear her amusement.

“I might be.” A pause. “Help me up?” Laura felt the arc of something waving in her direction. She sidled her way toward the motion, bumping her elbow against Baltar’s granite head in the process. Finally, she grasped Tom’s outstretched hand.

Tom pulled, a firm and calculated gesture, and Laura found herself toppling down against his body with a mutual oomph.

“You bastard.”

Tom laughed. A deep throaty chuckle that Laura could feel as well as hear.

“Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same, Madame President.” There was a triumphant grin in his voice. She felt the quick shake of his shoulders as he shrugged. “At least you got a softer landing.”

Laura would have tripped him, actually, and spared herself from being crushed -- but the soft landing part was true. She wasn’t hurt. But if he thought she was going to ask about his welfare after such a stunt, he had another thing coming. Laura wriggled around to disentangle herself, a more difficult feat than she’d realized given their awkward position. She was, quite literally, on top of the man, so close that she couldn’t be completely sure if the thrumming pulse she felt was hers or his. 

Tom’s hand brushed against her midsection. She told herself that it could pass for a chivalrous gesture to help her up, still well within the bounds of professionalism. He let it linger there. The seconds ticked by and Laura felt the heft of the unspoken question, a question punctuated by their mingled uneven breaths. Those could not so easily be explained away. And she couldn’t quite account for the fluttery tingle deep within her belly either. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from their earlier scare. Adrenaline and nerves. All of it. Yes.

Why had she stopped moving? She should already be up off the floor by now. Gods! Her hand was still clasped in his. As if on cue, he rubbed his thumb into the curve of her palm.

Laura knew that she could lean forward or she could pull back. The sensible option was staggeringly clear. But gods -- hadn’t they been careening toward this since they tumbled down that sandy hill on New Caprica? She wasn’t sure they’d ever really stopped falling.

She leaned in, searching in the darkness for his ear. Her mouth made contact, instead, with the stubble on his jaw. She worked her way toward her goal with a slow press of half-parted lips against his skin. He groaned, sliding his arms around her waist, then her back, drawing her in closer.

“I did tell you to frak your instincts,” Laura whispered against his earlobe. “Although I really don’t think I should reward such bad behavior.”

He laughed. “A politician who makes good on her promises.” He gave her ass a firm squeeze. “Admirable.”

Laura ground her hips against him. They would have to hurry this along. She was surprised someone from her detail hadn’t walked in on them already.

Truth be told, she wished they didn’t have to hurry.

She tugged at Tom’s belt until he got the hint. He worked on it while she pushed her skirt up and slipped off her underwear.

Laura palmed him, grateful for the dark that hid her wry, appreciative smile. Apparently, Mr. Tom Zarek had good cause to be such a cocky bastard. His hand inched up, starting at the outside of her thigh and moving inward until he was circling her clit. Slow. Maddeningly so. This was a man who knew his way around a woman’s body.

She sank down onto him and it didn’t take them long to find a steady, rocking rhythm. A noise, real or imagined -- Laura wasn’t sure which -- made her pick up the pace. She came with a soft cry, muffling the sound with the palm of her hand while Tom held onto her waist, keeping her steady. He spilled into her while she rode the aftershocks, and she shuddered against his body until they both went limp.

Laura was glad they didn’t have time to talk as they scrambled to get the lights back on and to smooth their disheveled clothing.

If her guards noticed anything out of the ordinary, they were either truly oblivious or savvy enough not to show it. Tom had a good Triad face and he’d deftly hidden the lipstick smeared on the edge of his shirt collar with some some well-orchestrated folding.

Laura kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“Oh my gods,” she said out of the side of her mouth as they strode down the corridor. “I don’t have my underwear.”

Tom gave her a sideways grin and patted his suit jacket pocket.

“Don’t worry, Madame President. I do.”


End file.
